


The Sweet in the Bitter

by SilenceoftheSolitude



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Heads of House, POV Severus Snape, Staff Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 02:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheSolitude/pseuds/SilenceoftheSolitude
Summary: Minerva’s hand reached his arm and squeezed, and Filius looked at him with encouragement. Had it been anyone else, he might have been offended or outraged, but these people knew him – as far as he allowed anyone to know him – and they weren’t being condescending or pitying, they were being supportive.





	The Sweet in the Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as something that was supposed to be fun and lighthearted but it turns out that those two words don't really go as well together with Severus Snape as I'd like them to.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and whomever owes the right to the books and the movies, I make no profits from this work of fiction.
> 
> This work has not been beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own.

The four Heads of House met more regularly than the other professors, mainly to discuss the finer points of disciplining their students. Severus was often chided upon by the others for punishing his Slytherins behind closed doors, but it had taken the arrival of Harry Potter at school to have the other Heads seriously scolding him.

 

Lately, however, discipline had not exactly been a high point in the meetings’ agenda. What with students being petrified and bloody messages appearing on the castle’s walls.

 

It hadn’t taken too long for them to figure out what the “monster” was; the death of all the roosters, the petrification and a quick word with Moaning Myrtle – who remembered only yellow eyes – cleared the way for establishing that the Chamber of Secret housed a Basilisk. That evidence had been cemented when Albus had revealed that it had been Tom Riddle who had accused Hagrid of being responsible for Myrtle’s murder by housing a dangerous Acromantula, and he had feared for Hogwarts’ closure.

 

Finding the entrance to the Chamber, however, was proving to be a little harder.

 

Severus was drawn away from his musings by Pomona.

 

“Albus is late, should we start without him?”

 

“Albus is always late,” Severus noted flatly.

 

“Yes, fashionably so. Today there’s no fashion to his lateness,” Filius squeaked.

 

Severus knew Filius did not actually squeak, but it was easier to think he did. That way Severus could pretend there was something annoying about Filius too, and he wouldn’t have to set his mind too hard into finding another flaw to dislike the Ravenclaw Head of House.

 

“Do you know where he is, Minerva?” Pomona asked again.

 

Severus knew better than anyone else in the room why Pomona seemed to be so pressed for time lately; she was tending to the Mandrakes to revive the petrified students – present and prospect – (and Mrs Norris), and was feeling the pressure of the responsibility heavily on her shoulders. The school was scrambling to find funds and couldn’t afford to buy the ingredients and deal with the students immediately, and that was why Albus had settled on the idiot Lockhart – he hoped that his presence would give them funds through popularity.

 

“No, but I can venture a guess,” she sighed in an annoyed way that left no room for interpretation.

 

Severus could sympathise. Everyone with half a brain could have sympathised, really. Filius himself was apologizing profusely for ever having produced a student like Gilderoy Lockhart. Severus himself thought Lockhart brought more shame to a House than any Dark wizard ever would. Tom Riddle, at least, had been brilliant.

 

“We need to act, really,” Pomona was exasperated, “we can’t allow him to carry on as he is. My Badgers tell me–”

 

“The exact same stories we are being told by our own students,” Severus cut off, not at all in the mood to think about scum before another pointless meeting with Albus. There was only so much patience he could dredge up after a day of Potter in his class.

 

“Severus,” Minerva warned him.

 

He sighed. “My apologies, Pomona, that was unkind of me. I am slightly overtaxed.”

 

She nodded in silent understanding, and gave him a reassuring smile.

 

“I really don’t see why Albus keeps denying you the position, really. We need someone competent teaching the subject, and you’re already here,” Pomona said. Clearly she was of the idea that a competent Potions professor would be easier to find.

 

“That’s because my requests aren’t genuine,” Severus stated calmly. Had it been any other day he might have brought up the fake indignation and the resentment, but he really was tired, and both Minerva and Filius had figured it out long ago. “The curse is not just a myth; I wouldn’t last the year.”

 

“Then why bother every year?” Pomona asked perplexed.

 

“It builds into the Dungeon Bat image,” Filius stated, fighting hard to hold back a smirk.

 

“The dunderheads have gone soft; I was a Vampire once,” Severus retorted with fake indignity.

 

Filius laughed outright and Minerva snorted, while Pomona just shook her head.

 

They had stopped arguing with his methods of teaching after his third year as a teacher. At the end-of-year staff meeting, Albus had beamed at him, congratulating him on single handedly increasing Hogwarts’ rank to restore its status as the leading Wizarding school in Europe, as well as being the sole Potions professor in Europe who had concluded his year without a single life-threatening incident in class.

 

“Don’t worry, Severus, dear,” Minerva patted his arm, “you’ll always be a Vampire to us.”

 

“In fact,” Filius said with the glint that promised a joke at Severus’ expenses, “I hear Sybill might be keen on having her blood sucked out from you.”

 

That was, of course, a true lie. Maybe if he had mentioned Charity Severus might have given the idea a second thought, but everyone knew the only thing Sybill was interested in was cheap Cherry.

 

“And did you tell her that Vampires drink blood, not alcohol?” Minerva asked before he could retort with something more vicious and definitely funnier.

 

Minerva, Severus had observed, was highly territorial when it came to him. They enjoyed each other’s company far more than they let on, and she always tried her best to protect him from everything she perceived as being possibly offensive to him.

 

“You need not worry, Minerva, I will always enjoy sucking your blood more than anyone else’s.”

 

Even Pomona, who was usually more restrained, laughed languidly at that.

 

“I knew there was a reason Albus kept you around,” Filius winked.

 

Severus looked at Minerva to see whether he had gone too far with that comment, but she regarded him with a genuine smile, and he was reassured. The last thing he needed today was to upset Minerva.

 

Just as he was about to return to his grading, he heard the distinct sounds of two sets of steps approaching the door. He groaned and produced a sneer just in time for it to land on the figure of Lockhart as he breezed into the room with his peridot robes and his shining hat.

 

Albus’ eyes twinkled. Severus’ internal growl matched his scowl.

 

“I am ever so sorry to have kept you waiting,” Albus started before anyone beside Severus could express any form of objection to Lockhart’s presence to a private meeting. “But Gilderoy had an idea he was ever so keen to share with me.”

 

Lockhart, the fool, smiled widely, directing his shining, polished, teeth somewhere between Pomona and Minerva.

 

Severus didn’t think Lockhart could produce a single demiurgic thought to save his life, let alone something that deserved to be brought up to the Heads of House, but he had learnt that with Lockhart enquiring – however snidely and contemptuously – only promised to bring him further vexation. He returned to his essays with deliberate disinterest.

 

“Thank you, Albus.”

 

Severus couldn’t help but bristle at the familiarity with which the fool addressed the Headmaster. It had taken him years to earn the respect and trust to address Albus by his first name, and this merry-andrew had dared use it since his first day as teacher. Without being encouraged to do so.

 

Minerva’s hand reached his arm and squeezed, and Filius looked at him with encouragement. Had it been anyone else, he might have been offended or outraged, but these people knew him – as far as he allowed anyone to know him – and they weren’t being condescending or pitying, they were being supportive.

 

The lack of interest did not discourage Lockhart to continue with misplaced enthusiasm, and he took the only remaining seat at the table. Dumbledore’s.

 

Albus gave no indication that the development had upset him, but Severus noted that he did not summon an extra chair as he would have done in any other circumstance. Severus stood and silently offered Albus his seat. It wasn’t that he thought the Headmaster couldn’t stand, but it was the respectful thing to do.

 

“Considering recent developments in the school – and might I say how tragic it was to see Mister Cleve petrified like that,” Lockhart added without an ounce of regret in his voice.

 

“Mister _Creevey_ ,” Minerva corrected him, fuming.

 

Severus had no love for the overly boisterous boy, but at least he could be bothered to remember the name correctly. From his place standing between Minerva and Albus, he glared at Lockhart with such vehemence that the usually unfazeable wizard stumbled over his words and gulped audibly.

 

“As I was saying,” he started again, “considering recent developments, I believe it would be helpful for the students to be capable to defend themselves better. The defense education has been severely lacking before my arrival, of course,” he tried another grin, but directed it solely on Pomona. Not satisfied he added a wink. Pomona shuddered. “But fear not, Gilderoy Lockhart will put a stop to that!”

 

Severus thought someone might have to cast _Rennervate_ on Filius soon. The shame was affecting the Charms professor quite strongly.

 

Albus, probably reaching the end of his patience, intervened, “Gilderoy has asked to start a duelling club, giving all the students extra lessons in Defense. I was thrilled at the idea, of course, and immediately agreed to it.”

 

Severus could not see the twinkle in Albus’ eyes, but that did not mean he couldn’t _hear_ it in his voice.

 

“The school’s rules, however, dictate that a duelling club must be held under the supervision of two professors. For safety reasons, of course,” Albus added.

 

“Of course,” Severus sneered. He knew what the end of the conversation was going to be already, and would have rather glossed over the middle to get to the annoying part, but he knew better than to rush Albus into anything. He might just offer you Sherbet Lemons.

 

“My first thought, of course, went to Filius,” Lockhart said, winking at the Charms professor, now. “I do remember the tales of your duelling days! But we all know how truth can be embellished, eh?” The laugh was derogatory to say the least, and Severus wanted nothing more than for Filius to challenge Lockhart on the spot.

 

Filius, however, was too composed for that. He maintained his dignity and said not a word to defend himself; he lived with the idea that replying to an insult only added to its veracity. Severus held no such compunction, but refrained from commenting and began plotting a revenge that would satisfy Filius as well as himself.

 

“I also wouldn’t want to battle a woman,” he winked twice, once at Minerva and once at Pomona. “It wouldn’t be very cavalier of me, and I generally would do no such thing. Not even with hags.”

 

Minerva, to whom the comment had been directed, was starting to bristle in her seat. Severus had to raise his Occlumency shields to prevent himself from doing something Albus would not approve of. Like directing a _Sectumsempra_ to Lockhart’s face.

 

Lockhart had the gall to turn his sickening smile in Pomona’s direction once again, “especially not with women who aren’t much adept at fighting, eh.”

 

Despite his best efforts, Severus couldn’t keep the rage from exuding from his body. Items started to rattle all over the room and both Filius and Pomona, who could turn without alerting Lockhart, fixed their eyes on him, silently begging him not to lose his control.

 

Albus, Severus realised, could have intervened at any point, but if he hadn’t before it was unlikely that he would now.

 

“I was resigned to not being able to keep the club after all, when Albus suggested I ask you, Severus!” He laughed at that, as if the mere thought of Severus using a wand was a big joke.

 

Severus had half a mind to casually raise the sleeve of his left arm, but was suddenly ashamed of his own thought. He didn’t need the reminder of his Death Eater’s days to know his self-worth. His insecurities had led him to commit the gravest mistake of his life, he was not about to let them rule him once more.

 

“I would not ask, if I didn’t have to, of course,” Lockhart resumed, when his humour fell short of eliciting any kind of response. “I promise I will go easy on you!”

 

Severus found his inner calm as he noticed Filius’ smirk at that. Suddenly, the idea of how to avenge all of them came to Severus.

 

“But of course,” he said silkily, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I will be delighted to _help_.”

 

He sneered, and Lockhart’s smile flickered for a while, until his simple mind supplied him with the reassurance that a Potions Master could not be proficient at anything else but brewing potions. Severus might even _enjoy_ himself.

 

Lockhart cleared out of the room claiming he had fans he _must_ respond to, but not before imparting them with the knowledge he possessed on success, fame and whatever other idiocy he felt compelled to share with people he considered his inferiors.

 

Albus stood, giving Lockhart the impression that he was recognizing his worth, but truly just wanting to regain his, more comfortable, chair.

 

No sooner had the door closed behind Lockhart that comments started to come out of everyone’s mouth.

 

“That insufferable–” Pomona started.

 

“How _dare_ he–” was Minerva’s choice.

 

“Of course the whole experience will be fruitless,” Filius contributed.

 

Albus’ voice rang above the others. “You will not harm him.”

 

Severus lifted his eyebrow as silence descended upon the room.

 

“Do you wish me to bow down to him, also?”

 

“I know you, Severus, and I will not allow you to be the reason we lose Lockhart’s services before the end of the year,” Albus stated in an authoritative tone.

 

“His _services_?” He spat the word like it was venom. “And what would those be, exactly? Teaching students how to dress fashionably? Yes, I see how that might help them face a Basilisk. Because in case you have forgotten, _Headmaster_ , that is precisely what we are facing. And Lockhart is such an expert on Dark Magic that he couldn’t even tell the difference between petrification and death. I’m sure his _services_ will be invaluable when a student will die on us.

 

“Or are you afraid that your _servant_ will overstep his limits and use the Killing Curse on a buffoon?”

 

“Severus…” Minerva’s voice was barely above a whisper.

 

“I will teach him his place, although the lesson will be fruitless,” Severus continued in an icy tone, “and while I might enjoy every single moment of it, it will be brief and inconsequential, and not nearly enough to impart on him the need to respect his superiors.”

 

He stood again and started collecting his items from the table.

 

“Severus, my boy–” Albus started apologetically.

 

“Unless you have found a way inside the Chamber of Secret, I am going to my rooms. You would not like what will come out of my mouth next, otherwise.”

 

Nobody tried to stop him, and he didn’t dare look into anyone’s eyes. Not even the Headmaster’s.

 

Before he reached his rooms he managed to take twenty points from Hufflepuff and ten from Gryffindor. He didn’t feel any better for it.

 

He skipped dinner and brooded in his rooms to regain control over his mental faculties. The previous year the Dark Lord had infested Quirrell’s head and Severus had actively worked against him; spinning the right lies to cover that incident was going to be hard enough without having to covertly control a re-enactment of Tom Riddle’s school years. Severus might be the best Occlumens alive, but even a self-absorbed, mad, lunatic would figure out which side of the war Severus was on if he didn’t keep his story straight. Especially one who thrived to see others suffer and made a hobby of contriving reasons why his followers were displeasing him. He had discussed that with Albus and they had come to the agreement that it would be best for Severus to lay low this year.

 

As much as a Basilisk threatening muggle-born students it was his job description to protect would allow, at any rate.

 

When his hands stopped trembling, he focused his mind to re-enact the conversation he had had in the meeting room, and decided that aside from labelling himself as Albus’ servant he hadn’t done anything too damning. Addressing Albus by his role instead of his first name had nothing to do with anger, and everything to do with insecurities, anyway.

 

Severus was in perennial fear of not truly possessing Albus’ trust, and when someone like Lockhart breezed in and took all those liberties with him, it was only natural that Severus’ fears came crashing down on him with the full force of a Stunner to the chest. He could deal with that in the morning. He would.

 

* * *

 

 

Breakfast was as sedate an affair as ever there could be with Gilderoy Lockhart in attendance. Severus took a seat at the end of the table, where he could observe his Slytherins without interference and where he was shielded from Lockhart by much physical distance.

 

To his surprise, Minerva and Filius flanked him, with Pomona sitting to the right of Filius, effectively turning his breakfast in an attempt at not looking up from his plate. They ate languidly, and Filius and Pomona talked in quiet tones, but none of them left before Severus placed down his cutlery.

 

Pomona and Filius preceded him out the back door behind the table, and Minerva followed him after a couple of minutes – time he had spent looking blankly at Filius and Pomona in the room that was seldom used even by teachers, just to the side of the Great Hall, accessible by the small door at the Head Table’s side, in which they had led him with pointed looks.

 

When Minerva finally arrived, he tried to gauge her state of mind by looking at her face, but her expression was blank. Without Legilimency there was no way to know what to expect from her, but Severus respected her too much to probe her mind.

 

“I must apologize for my behaviour yesterday,” he begun. “I was not in a particularly good mood. There will be no repeat performances,” he assured.

 

“I yelled at Albus until my voice got raw,” Minerva dismissed his apology. “What he allows Lockhart to do and say is not worth the meager amount of funding his presence has contributed to the school, and I impressed upon Albus the fact that should the curse, for some unknown reason, fail to work its magic this year, we shall have a new Defense professor next year regardless.”

 

“And you think he’ll comply?” Severus asked, even though he didn’t doubt the curse’s efficiency.

 

“He will when the alternative is that he’ll be three Heads short,” assured Filius with a tenacity he rarely displayed.

 

Severus watched all of them in turn, and was filled with a sense of warmth he couldn’t allow himself to feel for these people. They had ignored his sullenness and accepted him as their equal even when he had been barely more than a student, and now they were threatening to do what he never could on his behalf.

 

Pomona, who would ask his counsel with plants even though there were few witches as knowledgeable as her on the topic in the whole of Britain; Filius, who would duel with him and ask pointers to improve himself while his duelling trophies sat comfortably in his room; Minerva, who claimed her dry wit had increased tenfold since Severus’ arrival on staff, when it had been her who had taught Severus how to turn his bitterness into sarcasm.

 

Suddenly, he remembered why he needed to vindicate them.

 

“I have a plan,” he stated.

 

Filius grinned, “when have you not?”

 

“Albus wants _me_ to take care of Lockhart,” there was no way anyone in the room was going to ask him to rephrase that sentence. “Which implies that I should be the only adult present supervising the club.” He wasn’t going to amend that either.

 

“That sounds rather irresponsible,” Pomona commented, a sly smile betraying her seriousness.

 

“Quite,” Severus agreed. “And with the likelihood of a high attendance, stemming from the misconception that duelling entails nothing more than the rude barrage of spells towards an opponent, I should think that rounding up four adults for supervision might not be a bad idea.”

 

“A sensible choice, I should think,” Minerva approved.

 

“I would not, however, like to cause too much anxiety in the children by placing the undue pressure of _four_ professors judging them at one time.”

 

“It seems to me,” Filius said with the glimmer of understanding that so often graced his eyes, “that we should be there _covertly_.”

 

“Might one even say _Disillusioned_?” Severus raised his left eyebrow for emphasis.

 

Pomona and Filius left soon after that, but Minerva lingered, as Severus had suspected she would.

 

“You know the reason why he allows it, don’t you Severus?”

 

Severus turned towards the fireplace and lit the fire without thought, his lips sealed and his wand still safe in his robes. He never allowed himself the luxury of using wandless, wordless magic in front of an audience, but he was long past deluding himself that Minerva was not aware of the full scope of his abilities.

 

He stared at the flames until the crackling wood’s sound lulled him into tranquillity. Yes. Yes, he knew why Albus allowed for someone like Lockhart to be in the school. Publicity, money, desperation at the lack of candidates for the position. And the need to find and reveal the truth. Justice in the form of exposing a fraud, which, incidentally, would greatly consolidate the image of Albus Dumbledore the Old Coot – an image which gained him the trust of countless witches and wizards.

 

Minerva lay her hand on his back to bring him back to reality.

 

“I will go easy on him,” Severus replied to an unasked question. “I will make it fast, so that the shame will be greater.”

 

“I trust you completely on that,” Minerva asserted with conviction. “You are, after all, the strongest of us, Severus, though I’d like to try a fair fight with you one day just to be certain.”

 

Severus knew no one had anything on Filius as a duelist, but duels were things of the past. Like Gobstones. Practiced by an elite of people who could recognize that going forward did not imply abandoning all that made them magical. The Wizarding world was moving fast-paced towards innovation and inventions, in a poor imitation of the Muggle world the Pure-bloods still claimed to abhor. And yet their attempts at apery were but a parody of what modernization had entailed for the Muggles. For as long as their society continued to be led by narrow-minded individuals, Severus had no doubt that the road forward would be impeded and inaccessible.

 

But Severus had never belonged to either world, and as such he had never acted according to any standard, except those which he believed to be beneficial from either one of them.

 

He inclined his head, “I await the day.”

 

They both left for class at that point, and while Severus had the distinct impression that he would do better to _rue_ the day when he was forced to face Minerva’s wand in battle, he allowed his mind to conjure up the battle he would like to have with her and allowed the images to soothe his spirit throughout the day. He took joy in the smallest doses these days, for since Lily had severed their friendship he had known no other kind.

 

Ever since their last fight there had only ever been a bitter taste in Severus’ mouth, but sometimes he would find the faintest trace of sweet, and he had learnt to appreciate it even more for its rarity and its contrast.

 

That was why he wasn’t at all surprised when so little after having blasted Lockhart on his ass with a simple _Expelliarmus_ , Potter had decided to display his gift of being a Parselmouth right when the Heir of Slytherin was rumored to be running wild in the school. It was nothing new, just the bitterness reasserting its role of protagonist into Severus’ life.


End file.
